Time Lords PLURAL
by torchwoodtimelord
Summary: The Doctor and Donna narrowly escape from a planet of midget Cybermen. "Just set it to random" Donna said, unknowing of what she had just done.
1. Set it to Random

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Doctor Who nor Cybermen. Though, I totally call dibs on coming up with the **_**idea**_** for midget Cybermen! I don't own them, they're all owned by the BBC. Even the midget Cybermen which I'm sure they'll use only in a desperate moment.**

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**Time Lords PLURAL**

**Chapter One - _Set It To Random_**

The pair of them burst through the Tardis doors, plasma rays pushing them deeper into the control room.

"Doctor! Snap your bloody fingers!" she shouted as she rounded the central console.

"I'm trying! It doesn't seem to be working!" he replied, snapping his fingers furiously towards the doors.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Donna snapped, pushing up her sleeves and bounding back toward the doors, trying not to get herself killed. When she reached the doors, she grabbed one of them quickly and slammed it forward into place. "Try it now!"

"Allons-y!" The Doctor tried it again, and that time, it worked. The other door flinging itself to fit firmly into place beside its mate just before a wayward ray would have caught the Londoner in the chest.

"Right! Next stop, anywhere but here!" the Doctor said in adrenaline charged excitement. "That was brilliant, wasn't it!" Rushed hands slammed against the controls as he started pressing buttons and pulling levers randomly. "Come on then, pick a spot, any spot!"

Donna slowly went up to the controls, standing on the other side and staring at the Doctor in a mixture of anger and disbelief. She was unsure which was more important, that he so wantonly used her a as bait for the midget Cybermen, or that they managed to escape with their lives.

"I don't care," she said, a hand to her chest as she walked around the console to sit in one of the chairs. Her heart was beating faster than it ever had, and it was taking longer than usual to catch her breath and calm down.

"Oh... poor girl.." the Doctor cooed, stroking the Tardis lovingly. "Did those nasty little Cybermen damage you?"

"Hey!" Donna shouted. "What about me! I'm the one that almost died!"

"Oh, right," the Doctor said, giving a small cough and looking at the controls with a look that said "we'll continue this later" before whirling around and crossing his arms over his chest. "So, pick a spot yet?"

Donna sighed. It was always the same with that man. Pick a time or a place, any time or place. Find a dangerous plot or something outlandishly weird, nearly get killed, hug at some point during the adventure, and run. There was far too much running for her liking, though it had helped her shed a few pounds she'd been working on for months.

"Oh I don't know," she said. She couldn't stay mad at him. Not when he looked at her like that, as if he didn't even understand what she was all mad about. "Set it to random."

He nodded, and that goofy grin spread across his face. With a renewed excitement, that old Time Lord spun around, and did his dance of crazy Tardis piloting that never failed to amuse Donna.

"Alright, now we'll just leave it up to the old girl while we go have a nice breakfast."

"Breakfast? But it's-"

"Wibbly-wobbly, Timey-wimey," he said, like he always did when he wanted to get his way. "You know how it is. Besides, I bought jam last week, and by Rassilon, I'm going to have it on toast before it starts growing an entire subatomic civilization."

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AN: So... this is part of my TorchWho Paradoxverse. The original project that started my bigger story. Reviews are like Jelly Babies. I need a refill.


	2. Code Blue

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own, nor have I ever owned Doctor Who or Torchwood. Though man it'd be freaking awesome if I did. Everything connected to them belong to the BBC. All I can ever hope for is collecting the action figures and the novels.**

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****Time Lords PLURAL  
Chapter Two - _Code Blue_**

It felt like days. It could have been hours, or weeks. It was always hard to tell for Donna in the Tardis. Especially when she had taken enough naps in transit to lose all sense of any real timing at all.

Groggily, she came out from the hallway, rubbing at her eyes as the Doctor was once again doing that strange piloting dance he never seemed to stop doing.

"Rise and shine!" he said excitedly.

The woman mumbled something in reply before shuffling to the seats and flopping down. She leaned some, folding her arms over the back of the second seat and resting her head on it.

"What's wrong now?"

"Little Cybermen nightmares," she replied.

The Doctor nodded, but he never lost that excited grin on his face. "You got up just in time! We're about to materialize on new planet, completely uncharted, never before seen!" He put his foot back on the floor, having been pushing a lever with it, then circled around to the other side to fiddle with a few more buttons. "Thirty-one ninety-seven. Oh! Emperor Kuyolwix just ended the millennium war against the Vuphoflex! Oh, that was a strange one. Strange, but fun. Did you know there are some planets that actually use the yo-yo as a weapon of modern warfare?"

"Doctor..." Donna grumbled.

He blinked, and leaned to peer around the central column at her. "What?"

"Be quiet."

"What?"

She raised her head and glared at him. "I've got a migraine!" The sound of her own shouting made her wince. But her human pain went unnoticed as the Tardis groaned and shifted suddenly, knocking her out of the seats.

The Doctor held fast to the edge of the controls, grabbing up his rubber mallet. "Looks like you're not the only one!" he said, whacking the Tardis with it in just the right spots. The blue box shifted again, then jerked the pair around before evening out once again.

"What the hell was that?"

"Don't know... But she didn't like it, whatever it was," he replied, stroking his chin in thought for a second before bouncing around again, this time to the small monitor screen. "Let's have a look..." The brainy specs were pulled out, and Donna steadied herself on the railing before easing her way back to the seats.

Just as she sat back down, the Tardis went haywire again, this time sparks flying from the controls as well. The Doctor's enthusiasm for a random adventure involving yo-yos was lost, having given way to worry and concern over his faithful ship's personal well being.

"Well whatever it is, tell it to knock it off!"

"Hey!" the Doctor shouted back as the Tardis began to creak. "It's not like she ate a bad piece of tomato! This is serious!"

"Then do something!"

"I'm trying!" He reached for the mallet again, but the Tardis settled down for the second time.

But relief and a moment's peace were not to be had by the Doctor and his companion, not even for a second or two. The doors of the antique blue box swung open, and the Doctor put himself between Donna and the men at the doors, rifles pointed inside.

"Torchwood!" a man's voice shouted as another turned his head to speak into the radio on his shoulder.

"Sir, we've got a Code Blue. I repeat, Code Blue."

"I thought you said nothing could break through the shield! A lot of good it's doing us now-"

"Donna."

"What?"

"Shut up for five minutes and let me think," he said as he reached into his pocket for his trusty tool.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the one who declared they were with Torchwood said boldly.

"But you're not me," he said. "Nobody busts into my Tardis and-"

"Back off," the one with the radio said, raising a hand.

"But-"

"Orders from Harkness. Stand down."

The Doctor's expression changed from anger to a much more silent fury. The nerve of Jack, to pull a stunt like this. Well, he was going to take care of that soon enough.

Reluctantly, the soldiers stepped back, and the Tardis slammed her own doors closed in anger.

Donna sighed, shook her head, and stretched her arms. "So, should I get my running shoes?"

The Doctor was beyond furious. Anyone with the kind of power necessary to force the Tardis into a landing like that was someone who had technology they shouldn't have. Of course, he was more angry at the fact it obviously belonged to Torchwood, which meant it was Jack's. He concluded that this rough ride was no accident.

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	3. Never Harm the Jam

1**DISCLAIMER: Once again, I don't own Doctor Who. I don't own Torchwood. I only own the books, some episodes burned onto DVD, and loads of posters and some action figures. The actual rights of the shows belong to the almighty Beeb (BBC.)**

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**Time Lords Plural  
Chapter Three - _Never Harm The Jam_**

Orders from Harkness.

The phrase still bothered him. It bothered him greatly. After consulting the Tardis computers, he deducted that he and Donna were not where they should have been. Not anywhere even close. The uncharted planet he had found, yes. But not in the year 3197. Not even remotely close in the neighborhood.

"Well, I've got my running shoes. Let's go charge out those doors and-"

"No. Let's not. Let's figure out why we're stuck here, then find a way to get unstuck."

_ "Doctor, your extrapolator's taken some damage. We've called in the mechanic to-"_

The Doctor ruffled his hair in frustration. How were these people getting into his Tardis like this? First the doors, then the communication systems. He seemed unphased as Donna began chattering away at him about something or another, with her phone in hand. Obviously, she must have been texting back and forth with Martha again.

The Tardis moaned at him, then shocked him when he tried to mute out the voices coming through his speakers.

"Hey hey hey now! No need to get upset!" He stroked the controls comfortingly. "I don't like this any more than you do."

Donna's chattering subsided as she plopped down in the seats with a sigh, her fingers flying wildly over the buttons on her phone before she let out a gasp and a giggle. "Oh my god yes!" she exclaimed out loud as she read the latest text from Martha.

The pair and the Tardis were left alone for a while. The Doctor was thankful for that. He didn't need any more distractions from those Torchwood buffoons outside. After a while, Donna got up and went for a cup of tea, leaving the Doctor with his odd ramblings. But the Doctor's complete peace and quiet didn't last for very long when he heard Donna's shrieking.

"Donna!" the Doctor exclaimed, vaulting over the railing and running at top speed down the hallway, following the sounds of her shrieks. His sonic screwdriver clutched firmly in one hand, the other one tucking his brainy specs into his pocket. "Donna!" he shouted as he slid to a stop behind her in the kitchen. "What's happened?!"

"The jam!" she said. "The jam's been spilled!"

"What?!"

"The fecking jam!" She pointed to the floor beside the small dinette set that looked to be something right out of a bad 1969 movie. Complete with the vinyl seat covers that stick to your legs on very hot days.

The Doctor's face twisted in a way Donna could only describe as heartbroken. Or would that be heartsbroken in the case of a Time Lord?

"Jack," he said sternly. "He spilled my jam. My _**new**_ jam. Oh... He's really done it now."

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AN: There a few things in the universe that cause the fury of a Time Lord to be unleashed. Alien invasions of Earth. Giant creepy spider things about to turn the human race into their food supply. Decimating the human population in general. And giant floating pepperpots trying to destroy everything but themselves. But the one thing that really burns the toast is... spilling jam. The Doctor quite likes his jams. :) Don't worry, this strange bit of weirdness shall be over soon. I promise.


	4. Take Me to Your Leader

**DISCLAIMER: This is for non-profit. I don't own Doctor Who, Torchwood, or anything in the Whoniverse. I just buy the merchandise and write shotty fanfiction. The Whoniverse and everything in it belongs to the godlike being called the BBC.**

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**Time Lords Plural  
Chapter Four - **_**Take Me To Your Leader**_

The soldiers weren't ready for the wrath of a jam-less Time Lord.

"Take me to your leader," he said, then added in a less threatening tone, "I've always wanted to find another time to say that. It never gets old."

"Doctor," Donna said, wiping her sticky hands on her dress. She just couldn't get all of the jam off them, even after trying soap and water. Silently, she cursed the stickiness of alien raspberry jam. "You're angry, remember."

"Oh... right," he said, turning his attention back to the soldiers. "Tell your Mr. Harkness I want to have a word with him, right now!"

"Y... Yes sir," the soldier with the radio said with a nod, turning his head to speak into his shoulder once again. But the Doctor didn't waste any time. He had a few bones to pick with Jack, and standing around wasn't going to bring his jam back. Pushing through the befuddled soldiers, he made his way toward an elevator. Assuming the usual layout of a Torchwood facility, he logically pressed the button for the top floor.

Deciding speed was a factor, he held out his sonic screwdriver towards the buttons and adjusted it just enough to suit his taste. Donna barely managed to duck in before the doors closed.

"So this Jack, he's known for pulling things like this? Spilling your jam?" Donna asked, once again texting to Martha, this time for more information on this Jack fellow.

"Oh, he's Captain Thickity Thick from Thicktown Thickania alright," he said in a very annoyed tone. "And so's his dad." After that, he refused to speak to Donna the rest of the elevator ride.

The elevator chimed, and the doors opened up to a vast hanger of sorts. Donna started to step out, but was stopped by a man in a pink shirt and a black suit and tie, holding a tray with a teapot and two cups on it. "Wrong direction," he said as if seeing to strange people, one of them highly annoyed, was something he saw on a normal basis. "Timeline Corrections is stationed in the basement."

"Time what?" Donna asked, blinking at the man who wore a sticker nametag declaring cheerfully_ Hello, my name is: Quinten._

He shook his head. "See the button marked **B**. It stands for basement," he said. "Also, while you're down there, tell the secretary to stop sending me pictures of Mr. Harkness's back end."

At this, the Doctor had to stop and blink at him in puzzlement. "She's been sending you what?"

He shook his head and mumbled something to himself about the "crazy English" before going on his way, again as if this was the most normal sight to see in the universe.

After another short, thanks to the Doctor and his ingenious screwdriver, ride in the elevator they found themselves in a small and cramped corridor that smelled faintly of peppermint and cinnamon. An odd combination of scents that distracted the Doctor for a few minutes until Donna pointed out to him he was supposed to be annoyed now, and looking for Jack.

"Right then. The jam. He **will** pay me back for my jam," the Doctor said with a nod once he was back on track, heading down the hallway towards the only door at the very end.

Donna followed behind, having to walk so quickly she figured she was almost running to keep up with the Time Lord.

"Jack you!-" the Doctor shouted out as he flung open the door, only to be greeted by a cheerful, orange secretary in a very low cut blouse that even made the well endowed Donna Noble blush.

"Oh, you must be the Code Blue. We've been expecting you," the secretary said, then looked down at her schedule pad, poking at it with her pen before biting her upper lip a little. "You're 30 years early," she said. She picked up the blue phone on her desk, the only blue phone among a nice range of red ones.

The Doctor was puzzled, and ruffled his hair in thought. Donna looked around, finding a nice plush chair to sit on. She picked up a magazine to read. "Guess we'll be waiting a while then."

"Well, sir... Yes sir. Of course. I'll push your seven thirty back, and reschedule your dinner with Quinten for later this evening," the secretary said, setting the phone down with a shaky hand. She cleared her throat and looked up at the Doctor, who had finally stopped mussing up his hair. "Mr. Harkness is currently working on a case. He would like you to wait in his office until he returns." She pointed to the door with the duct taped sign posted on the front that declared the room beyond to be "Timeline Corrections" in black Sharpie marker.

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AN: Okay. One more chapter to go. Then I promise, It'll end. Really. This horrible little thing is nearly over. :) And remember, reviews are like Jelly Babies. And we all know what Jelly Babies are good for. ^.~


	5. Don't Drink the Tea

**DISCLAIMER: And, as always, I don't own them. I just write them. They're owned by the BBC.**

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**Time Lords Plural  
Chapter Five - **_**Don't Drink The Tea**_

"How long must we wait?"

The Doctor was sitting in a chair, his feet up on the large cherry wood desk. It was a charming little office, turned into such from a storage closet he supposed. The walls left unpainted, untreated. The cinder blocks peeking out from framed newspaper clippings, odd posters of rock bands and movies that by this time period were ancient and lost.

His legs were crossed at the ankles, his feet propped next to a rusted, antique nameplate that stated simply and boldly at once the name J. Harkness. "Pacing isn't going to make the minutes tick by any faster."

Donna stopped pacing next to an overloaded bookshelf. She ran a finger along the edge, lightly touching the spines of books as she wiped through a thick layer of dust. "Well," she said. "He could at least do a bit of cleaning in here! It's a pig stye!"

The Doctor chuckled, shaking his head at her as he twiddled his thumbs and took another long look around. "I must say... It does have that certain charm of superiority for a broom closet."

The door creaked open, and the young man with the nametag declaring him to be Quinten was seen again, carrying his tray of tea. "Please take your feet off the desk, Doctor. You're upsetting the experiment."

"Experiment?" Donna asked, looking at the dust and old paper caked desk. "It's filthy. Not even the Tardis wardrobe gets this messy."

Quin rolled his eyes and walked to the end of the desk, carefully pushing a stack of papers out of the way as he balanced the tray on one hand. With practiced perfection, he had the tray balanced as he moved a few other odds and ends out of his way before setting the tray down and sliding it an inch from the edge of the cherry wood desk.

"Tea time already?" Donna asked as the Doctor watched the young man closely, his feet still up on the desk. "Do you have biscuits? I can't have my tea without biscuits."

"This isn't for you," Quin said with a groan. "It's part of the experiment."

"What, exactly, is this experiment supposed to be about?" the Doctor asked, at last putting his feet on the floor and leaning forward, looking at a stack of papers as if scrutinizing their every fiber.

"That's classified information," he replied with a smug look.

"Quincy!" a male voice shouted from the other side of the door. Quin cringed at the sound of his rightful name.

"I thought your name was Quinten," Donna said, ignoring that the tea wasn't for the guests and helping herself to it anyway. "You're not very good at tea."

"I prefer coffee," he mumbled.

"Quincy! Get out here NOW!"

He straightened his tie, and the Doctor tore his attention away from the stack of papers he had decided weren't that interesting to begin with. "Then why does your tag say-"

"It's a running joke in the office. We're trying to see if anyone notices it doesn't say my name."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Ask Mr. Harkness yourself. It was his idea," he said, turning on his heel and quickly leaving the room before he could be called again.

The Doctor looked to Donna then, who was sniffing her cup of tea. "It smells a bit off," she said, setting it back down on the tray.

"You might want to sit down," he replied, rising from his seat and circling the desk. This idea of some experiment had him intrigued, considering the set up wasn't exactly laboratory conditions. "I mean it, sit down before you fall-" he said, and heard a thud just before he could finish. "Over."

Within moments, he heard her snoring on the floor. Leaning a little to peer over the side of the desk, he found her snoring, laying on the floor in a dead sleep. Shaking his head, he picked up one of the tea cups, Donna's chosen cup, and sniffed at it. "Those sneaky bastards. Though, I can't say it doesn't surprise me."

The door creaked open again, and a young man stood with a coat draped over his arm, his hand still on the doorknob.

"He put retcon in my tea again, didn't he?" was all he said before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

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AN: Okay. It's done. There is no more, because this was a prototype, and the plot bunny died. No amount of convincing will persuade me otherwise, so you're all safe from this insanity... for now.


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